Windows of Clouded Green
by ScribeOfRhapsody
Summary: "The eyes are the windows to the soul." It was a common saying. One nearly everyone heard before they reached adulthood. Some might muse on it. Some might shrug it off a few minutes later. Ignis did more than muse.


_**So, I randomly had an idea for this and then wrote it in a day… I hope you enjoy!**_

* * *

" _The eyes are the windows to the soul."_

It was a common saying. One nearly everyone heard before they reached adulthood. Some might muse on it. Some might shrug it off a few minutes later. Ignis did more than muse.

It was going to be his job to notice things about people. To notice everything possible about everyone in case they were a threat to his Prince. If the eyes were the windows to the soul, then surely that was where he should check first for ill intent? The only problem was that lack of height prevented him from making eye contact and keeping it natural. He wouldn't have that problem when he was older, but he needed to master the study _now._ _Before_ the Prince inevitably gained enemies. He needed to practice, and if he couldn't practice on adults, then he would have to make do with whom he _could_ study.

* * *

Noct was the first. Blue eyes so bright and wide with the playfulness of youth. At first, that was. Until the attack. Ignis' Prince and friend's eyes had changed by the time he came back from Tenebrae. Less wide. Less bright. He no longer greeted everyone with joy on his face.

Ignis hoped this change would be temporary. It wasn't. Noct's eyes stayed reserved and dull months after his return from Tenebrae. Distant. And darker with not only emotion, but age. It was a hue shift perhaps not even noticeable to others, but Ignis knew the Prince better than most, and he didn't miss the subtle hint of grey that changed Noct's color to that of an ocean in a storm. Ignis didn't see light break through that storm until Noct's first year of high school.

* * *

While Noct's new friend – _Prompto_ – had hair that reflected the sun's light with none of the original luminescence lost, that wasn't the bright color Ignis noticed. His irises were blue, but an entirely different blue than Noct had ever had. Dark and rich enough that Ignis almost wanted to label them as violet. And so, so bright with emotion. _Joy, amusement, care…_ So many years of observation under his belt now, and Ignis still had never seen eyes _this_ telling. The boy's every emotion was not only written, but engraved on his face. Particularly when he thought no one was looking at him. Despite how he portrayed himself, the boy had plenty of negative emotions as well. _Loneliness_. _Fear. Longing. Insecurity._ He was a mess of those emotions. But around Noct, those faded. And around Prompto… there was a break in Noct's storm. The friendship was beneficial to both. Ignis told that conclusion to the King himself.

* * *

Gladio. Now, his were more consistent. Always honey-brown. _Always_ bright. Prompto's shined brightest, but Gladio's shined the longest. Bright with warmth. Bright with determination. Bright with anger. His never seemed to change like the others.

* * *

Ignis wondered which friend his own eyes were closest to. It was difficult to read himself. The mirror provided him with no answers. The setting had to be natural. He'd caught a glimpse of his reflection in a window without meaning to once – a flash of subdued mischief present as he made a rather well-time jest to something Prompto had said. That couldn't be what he usually portrayed to others given how hard he worked at not giving things away, but it was fascinating all the same. No chance for a repeat of the moment, though. Not now that he knew he might catch his reflection in something. Now it would no longer be natural. It was a one-time chance.

* * *

The first time all his years of observation had come to fruition was in Galdin Quay.

"Consider it your allowance."

"Yeah, and who's _allowing_ us?"

"A man of no consequence. _"_

Seemingly unnaturally colored amber eyes that regarded the four of them with… _amusement._ As though he knew some joke the rest of them didn't. Ignis did not like what was behind those eyes.

* * *

The second time they met _Ardyn,_ his gaze bordered on patronizing. He regaled them with a nursery rhyme in the way a parent might lecture a child. That particular glimmer stayed present until it was replaced with burning condescension and the reflection of the lava around them as the Chancellor swooped in on his Magitek ship to save them. Ignis did _not_ like what was behind those eyes.

* * *

Every time they saw Ardyn after that, his gaze grew more and more unsettling. _Feral. Anticipatory_. The hint of honey tone that gleamed within them was nothing like Gladio's. Ignis did _not_ like those eyes.

* * *

 _Glee. Mockery._

Ardyn's eyes were burning once again, but there was no reflection this time. This time they burned with cruelty as he looked upon Ignis' trapped form. Even with the rain and scratch of cold stone on his cheek, Ignis saw the Chancellor's intent clearly.

Ignis hated those–

* * *

"She gave her life so you could do your duty, not so you could sit around feeling sorry for yourself!"

 _Narrowed brow. A swirl of mud and honey and spark of fire._

"You don't think I know that!?"

 _Chin up defiantly. A torrent only just held back._

These were the things Ignis knew would be in their eyes if he could see them now. _If_ he could see them now. But all he saw was the color of ebony, and he dreaded to think of what his own eyes looked like now. He would never know the patterns the marks had made on his face. He imagined something rather garish, only just veiled by the tinted spectacles he'd requested.

What use were his skills of observation now?

Prompto – bless the boy – was filling in as caretaker of the group. Every time Ignis stumbled, Prompto was at his side, helping him back up. Prompto heated up dinner for them. Prompto tried to quell the arguments between Gladio and Noct. That never should have been a burden placed on their youngest comrade.

And then Prompto was gone too.

"Prompto fell off the train! I pushed him– I mean, Ardyn made me! I don't know where he is, but we can't leave him!"

 _Tumultuous. Wide. The ocean unleashed._

Ignis could picture Noct's desperate gaze well, but he could do nothing to get rid of it – not from his mind or from where Noct was on the other end of the line.

* * *

"Well, look who's here."

Ignis didn't see Aranea Highwind's eyes up close during their first encounter. He didn't need to. She was attacking them, that made it fairly clear that she was a threat. But their second meeting… those were entirely different circumstances. They'd waited for nightfall in Steyliff Grove by settling at the nearby haven, and she had joined them.

Helmet off, lance put away… her eyes were not what he'd expected. Not cold or harsh as he'd assumed before.

 _Mischief tucked behind spring grass._ Strikingly similar to the glimpse he'd caught of himself that time several years ago.

And then the helmet was back on, and the Dagroon warrior had returned. Fearless and formidable.

She surprised him yet again now.

"Huh? What did you do to your eyes?"

Her voice held an edge of softness that didn't match any of the images in his head for her, but he could never gain more. He could try to imagine, he supposed. After all, his imagination was all he had left in that regard, and he could imagine quite well.

He imagined Ardyn's ridicule and enjoyment perfectly well as he brushed past him unharmed, laughing about the disappearance of their Prince. His mind's image was inaccurate, though. Prompto later spoke of how the chancellor's eyes had glowed, sick and yellow.

Ignis hated the very thought of those eyes.

* * *

"What color are Iris' eyes?"

"Hm?"

"I… can't remember any more."

He was hesitant to ask, but the constantly shifting image of the girl – _woman_ – in his head was driving him mad. His mind couldn't compensate for the changes he knew had occurred, and the lack of specificity on her most important feature wasn't helping.

Ignis had long ago accepted his new way of life. That didn't mean it wasn't hard some days.

He heard Aranea kneel down in front of him, taking his hands in hers as he sat in the chair of their makeshift training room. Her demeanor had instantly shifted when he'd asked his question. One of those rare times there was only understanding and no mischief. She knew how to spot those few times he really did need to be treated differently.

"Brown. Almost the same as Gladio's. You remember his?"

Of course. There was simply too much familiarity there for time to erase. And yes… that seemed right.

"Anyone else?"

Ignis wet his lips, not wanting to admit to her or himself just how many there were now. "…The Marshal?"

"Blue. Think… the clear skies we used to have."

"Monica?"

"Hazel. And Cindy and Cid have green, like those gross olives you cook with. And Dave's are greyish-blue. Talcott's are light brown. Mine are–"

"Green. Spring grass. I recall."

"You remember mine but not your Marshal's?"

Ignis felt his lips pull into a small smile. "I remember noting the similar color to my own. Or… the way mine once were." He squeezed her hands gently. "What do they… _does it_ look like now?" His left lid remained shut, as always since Altissia.

She gently tugged the frames of his darkened spectacles from his face, resting her hand on his right cheek. He turned into the touch slightly, relishing the rare occasion she shed her gloves. "Still green. Lighter… cloudy… like kind of an icy tinge, but… still green."

Icy. Appearing dead, but still alive, then. He felt down her arm until he found his glasses, pulling away from her hand to replace them on his face.

It was easier for others this way.

* * *

He wanted to see.

"Well, well. You kept us waiting."

He _needed_ to see.

"Not like I wanted to. We've got catching up to do."

The hand that clasped his shoulder was firm and confident. The voice he heard was older.

Ignis had long ago accepted his new way of life. That didn't mean it – in the words of Prompto – didn't royally suck some days.

"What can I say? You guys… are the best."

Funny, how his eyes were too damaged to give him sight – too damaged for one of them to even _open_ – but his tear ducts still worked perfectly.

Astrals, he just wanted to see the man… the _King_ Noct had become. He wasn't being granted that prayer, though. Noct would always be a stormy-eyed young man in his memory, but his imagination was working overtime.

"How does he look?" Ignis asked softly after Noct had finally retired for his last ever natural rest. The heat in front of him told him he was staring into the fire.

After several moments of oppressive silence, Gladio was the one who answered. "Regal. I'd go as far as to say damn majestic."

"…He looks a lot like his dad," Prompto said softly, his voice uneven from trying to withhold his own tears. "Little less of a beard… little longer hair… but… yeah."

Regal. Majestic. A slightly altered Regis.

Ignis let his imagination run wild with that, painting a canvas of Noct and what he remembered of Regis combined. He took time to add all the detail he could think of to the eyes.

The next day, Ignis pictured the various emotions those eyes could portray.

"This is it – give it your all, guys!"

 _Determination._

"Follow me."

 _Confidence._

"Let's go!"

 _Battle rage._

"Prompto. Can see your photos? I just need one… to take with me."

 _Resignation._

"Off my chair, jester. The King sits there."

 _Courage._

"This is my ascension."

 _Assuredness._

"I leave it to you."

 _Regret._

"Walk tall… my friends."

 _Resolve._

Ignis pressed his fist to his chest. "Godspeed… and take care… Majesty."

As he bowed to his King, he didn't need his sight to know that the oceanic storm had quelled. The waters were calm, reflecting the hues of a still overcast sky.

Ignis would not see nor hear his King again, but he would never forget those blue eyes… so bright and wide with the playfulness of youth.


End file.
